


Prompt Six Pairing Six

by bandgeek1stbassclarinet



Category: The Beatles
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6509491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bandgeek1stbassclarinet/pseuds/bandgeek1stbassclarinet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prompt was: Write something that really makes you feel the feels. <br/>The Pairing was: McLennon<br/>What I came up with: Why don't I write an AU where John lives and highlight some major advents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a thing that I do now. I find prompts on Tumblr write them down and have a list of pairings and number all of them. close my eyes and circle one of each and this happened, so read and hopefully enjoy.   
> For the sake of my sanity this is complete has of right now I might had a third chapter later.

December 10th, 1980 Paul’s POV

I sit by his bedside, it’s been two days since I got the call, one day of sitting here trying to wrap my head around the whole thing. It’s strange seeing him so still. I get pulled out of my thoughts by someone knocking on the door lightly. Jerking in surprise to see Yoko standing there. I go to stand but she stops me.

“He still cares for you, I hope you know that.” She says going to the other side of the bed. There’s so many things I can say to that, things like He has a funny way of showing it. Or then why’d he choose you? Instead I settle on a tense smile.

“He sure knows how to pick them.” And that could be taken anyway, but it doesn’t make it any less true. Looking back at his first marriage John was uncaring and wild for lack of better words and Cynthia tried to stick it out, if not for herself then for Julian. This time around is different, though it seems like Yoko is controlling him he seems a lot calmer now.

“I know you and the other two for that matter, so for that I’m going to apologize for that. I know it doesn’t mean much now, but you’re John’s friend and it was a sad thing to see you guys drift apart, when there was much chemistry.” Oh my god I’m having a heart to heart with the woman that caused so much tension between me and my best friend, over said best friends’ body.

“You’re right I did have a lot of pent up hate towards you, but looking back it all worked out. You and John had Sean, Richard got remarried, George got remarried and had a kid, I have Linda the girls and James. So why don’t we start getting long if not for our sakes then John because I imagine that he’ll be trying to get back to doing what he does best the moment they let him out.” 

“I’d like that.” She says and I decide to put my acting skills into good use,. Standing up and going over to her side of the bed.

“Excuse me ma’am, I’d like to introduce myself.” She raises her eyebrows. “I’m Paul McCartney, and I couldn’t help but notice you look upset.”

“Thank you Mr. McCartney, I’m Yoko Ono and my husband has been shot.” We both flinch at the last word. Dropping the act I say grimly.

“Seems like we’re in the same boat.” With that she stands up and hugs me, and before that’s something I’d never thought would be possible.

“O have to get back to Sean, look after John for me.” I nodded and she left. I take my seat again looking at John repeating my earlier statement.

“You sure know how to pick them.”

December 19, 1980.

“Paul, come here quickly!” Linda yells startling me from where I was dozing on the couch. I run to where she was in the hall phone pressed to her chest she smiles at me, before saying the words I’ve been waiting to hear for two weeks. “John’s awake.” And for the first time since the accident, I feel like I can breathe properly. On the way to the hospital I start thinking about the time we met.. Both of us being stubborn, John having these crazy plans. Little did he know more than he could ever imagine would come true. When I get to his room. John’s propped up on pillows looking exhausted, but awake and right now that’s all that wins.

“I was shot. What’s your excuse for looking like shit?” I notice that Yoko is here too. I clear my throat before speaking.

“John Lennon uniting the world even while almost dying.” Taking an extra seat on his left.

“I like to think that if this happened to George, Ringo, or yourself that I would get my head out of my ass and come be by your side.”

“You always did have a flare for dramatics.” I say.

“Stop with the formalities, McCartney I’ve known far too long for that shit.” I deflate at those words, and the silence was comfortable in a way it hasn’t been since Sgt. Pepper. The spell is broken when John starts to shift uncomfortably.

“The Martyr of the Year award goes to John Winston Lennon.” I say dryly pressing a button that controls the doses of Morphine.

“Mother of the year award goes to Sir Paul McCartney.” He says already slurring his words.

“Shut up Lennon.” He puts his hand out and wiggles his fingers at me. I take his hand in mine and the last thing he says before drifting off is.

“You tell anyone about and I’ll kill you.” 

“I know.”


	2. Chapter 2

1990 John’s POV

I don’t know what to do about Dhani.” George says laid out on the floor.

“Want to elaborate, there Harrison.” I sat from a similar position on the couch.

“Whenever I try to talk to him, it’s like he shuts down, He talks to Oliva just fine.” That explains why he’s been in mood.

“George, he’s twelve, he’s probably just doing what we were doing.” Okay I don’t think I was too bad when I was that young but I still don’t want to think about Sean doing what I was doing.

“I went to school, and played guitar, what were you doing?” I laugh a little at his tone.

“You don’t want to know.” I said winking. “Why don’t you talk to Paul about this he’s better equipped for this situation? “

“He’s busy.”

“Nice to know where I stand.” I say dryly.

“I just mean you don’t have the best tract record on your first child.” He says that part cautiously like he knows he’s walking a thin line. I grit my teeth at the tone, It’s the same tone he used when we first met, and to be frank I can’t stand it.

“Don’t fucking do that. “I say sternly and Christ this is a ground I’m not familiar with.

“Do what?”

“Acting like some nervous teenage who doesn’t know what to say or how to say it.”

 

“”I’m not doing it on purpose I just don’t know how to say it properly.”

 

“Then just say it, I have no room to judge on parenting methods.”

“How did you manage to do such a shit job raising Julian, but an amazing one raising Sean?” And that’s a shock.

“Experience, when Yoko told me she was pregnant I made a promise to myself and her that I would do a better job.”

“If it’s any consolation I think you did a fantastic job.” He says sitting up.

“Where are you going?”

“I have something to deal with.” Okay, I really have to get new friends.

1993

“Linda’s sock.” Paul says after sitting quietly for thirty minutes.

“What?” 

“She has cancer.” And that explains why it took him so long to say it.

“Paul,” I start but he waves his hand dismissively.

“James if fifteen, and I was around that age when mum died, so what id I wind up like dad was the first couple of months.” Okay Paul rambling is not a good sign.

“Paul.” I try again and he continues.

“I had to take care of Mike for those months and I don’t want to throw the responsibly on the girls they have school work and...”

“James!” I yell using his first name, which shuts him up. He looks at me so I continue. “Listen to me, you’re not going to end up like your dad was. I won’t let you I’ll let you grieve but I won’t let you drink yourself into a coma. Even if that does happen which it won’t, I’ll be hopefully somewhat sane, and Richie and George will help too.” He takes a deep breath rubbing his face.

“When did our lives become a fucking movie?”

“A Hard Day’s Night.” I say and he hits me.

“Shut up Lennon.”

“I’m going to cook tonight do you want some steak?’ And he gives me a really dirty look. “I never will understand your whole lack of meat deal.” I say leaving the room. And a wad of paper it’s the back of my head. “Fifty-two years old and I’m still being abused.” I say loud enough from the kitchen so he can hear me.

“Pouting doesn’t’’ suit you Lennon.” Paul says, sitting down at the table.

“Wearing clothes doesn’t suit you McCartney,”

:I’m not seven-teen anymore, John.”

“I’m older than you.”

“Fact doesn’t change.”

“Are you finished?”

“Are you?”

:I always have the last word.”

“No you don’t.”

“I’m going to a bar.”

“You haven’t gotten shitfaced in ten years.”

“Medicine will do that.”

“I’m not going to help your sorry ass to bed then.”

“Yes, you will.” I can work with bantering.

“I’ll be extra loud making breakfast in the morning.”

“Just have the coffee ready.”

“Fuck you.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do Paul?” Paul stands up throwing his napkin at me leaving the room, mumbling something about me being worse now than when I was twenty.”

*Later*

I bolt up gasping my hands going to my chest feeling for blood, Relived when there isn’t any. I take a deep breath looking at Paul who was sleeping peacefully. I get out of bed and wet to the kitchen putting the coffee on.” I put my hands on the counter leaning forward putting my weight on my arms, Apparently I get lost in my thoughts because I’m brought back down by someone’s cold hands on my neck. “Jesus.” I say jumping slapping the back of neck him having has been.

“Paul works too,” He says laughing, before going serious, “You need to sleep John.”

“I was.”

“A good eight hours not five.”

“Yes mother,” He kisses the top of my head.

“I’m going to soak in the tub.”

“Okay.”

“And it’s big enough for the two of us.” He says winking before going upstairs I wait about five minutes before going following him, I’m fifty-two not dead.

1994 Friar Park

The four of us our spread out around a blanket. George and Paul with ukuleles, Ringo patting his legs, and me with a guitar. After they turn the camera off I fall backwards screaming.

“I hate that it’s over twenty years and people are still hyped whenever we’re in the same part of the country.” I say looking at the sky.

“Yeah well, I might have something to do with that.” Ringo says laughing. I kick my foot out at him. Suddenly someone’s in a coughing fit. I sit up looking at George, who slowly catches hit breath.” 

“Are you okay?” I asked he nods his head breathing in deeply. I give him a look. “You have two weeks and if it’s not better, I’m dragging your ass to the doctors.” I say.

“John.” He says voice rough. All four of us get up and start walking around the grounds.

“I mean it, Paul and Ringo will help me too.”

“We will.” Paul says. Okay with Linda getting sick I understand how he would get more protective.

 

“Guys I’m fine it’s probably just allergies.” George defends himself,

“Allergies don’t cause people to cough like that, but if you prefer we can always tell Oliva.” Ringo says.

“I hate you.” George says before walking ahead of us yelling back, “don’t get lost.’

:” We love you too.” I yell at him

“You’re not giving him two weeks are you?” Richie asks.

“Nope.”

1996

I wake up to the phone ringing. Paul is passed out next to me like nothing is going on. I groan getting up and going down the hall.

“Hello?’ It’s more of a question because it’s according to the clock on the wall half past three.

“Can you and Paul get there has soon has possible?” 

“George, what’s going on?” It’s not like him to be vague let alone calling at three in the morning.

“I’ve already called Richie and he’ll be here within the next couple of days but I can’t hide this from you guys, and to be quite honest I’d like to only say this once. “ If Paul’s rambling was bad then George’s means the end of the world.

“We’ll get on the earliest flight.” I say and he just hangs up. I run back to the bedroom. I’m getting too old for this shit.

“Paul, wake up it’s an emergency.” I say hitting him.

“What?” He asks sitting up.

“You need to get up its George.”

“What’s going on?”

“Something bad because he said he only wants to say it once.”

A couple of days later a taxi is pulling up in front of the gates. When we get inside. Dhani, Oliva, Ringo, and George, are sitting in the main living area.

“What’s going on?” I ask sitting down in front of them. George sighs standing up.

“I’m sick.” I can feel Paul tense beside me. “Lung Cancer.” And Dhani stands up rushing out of the room. George looks torn between wanting to stay with us or go after is son. Paul stands up looking at George for a long time, before pulling him into a hug. Whispering something in his ear. 

“I’ll go after Dhani.” I tell Oliva. She nods mouthing thank you. I‘ve been wondering around the house for a couple of hours before actually remembering that I’m dealing with George’s kid. A kid who wouldn’t lock himself up somewhere but a kid who will run outside and find a quiet spot to think. I go into the gardens. After about thirty minutes I find him sitting on a bench kicking the ground with the toe of his shoe.

“Hi kid.” I say sitting down next to him.

“I know he’s going to die.” He says quietly. And suddenly I’ realize exactly how much he’s like his father.

“Everybody’s got to sometime.” And this is coming from someone who survived getting shot.

“I don’t know what to do.” Olay the kid is slowly opening up.

“Listen, I know your dad believes in Nirvana or whatever Hindu afterlife or something along those lines. Which good for him, but I happen to believe in God. When I was about your age I decided I was agnostic and then I got shot five times and somehow survived, and if that isn’t an act of god then I don’t; know what is.”

“Anything else you want to say outside of this religious nonsense?”

“Yes, its okay to get mad, just don’t get mad at your dad.” I say and he stands up and kicks over one of those stupid garden decorations. I slowly stand up leaving him to himself again,

“Fucking Harrisons.” I mumbled,

1998

 

It’s been a month since Linda died and Paul is trying so hard. The girls and James have been over every day.

“We need to talk.” No other than Heather McCartney says standing there, owning up to her last name.

“About.”

“About you taking care of dad.” And while she isn’t Paul’s biological kid she sure knows how to act like him.

“Okay, “I cross my legs gesturing for her to sit.

“Why haven’t you gotten him out of bed?”

“Because when Linda first got diagnosed I told him that I would let him grieve but not become an alcoholic.”

“What about us?”

“What about it? You seem to be coping well, I was a right mess after Julia died. I actually punched Paul.”

“How can you just sit there and act like this is normal!? She yells standing up.

“Because, I’ve came to accept a long time ago that whenever things start to look up like happens and it fucks you over. I understand it hurts to lose a loved one. The fact doesn’t change that it will always hurt, but it’s only worse if you ruin their memory but grief.” I say standing nose to nose with her. She breaks down crying, “It will be okay.” I say hugging her pulling her down with me so she’s sitting in my lap, kissing her forehead, and that’s how we spend the rest of the night like that.


End file.
